It was clear to Christian that Brianna wanted a knock-down-drag-out fight. She wanted him to smash the door down and manhandle her until her teeth rattled. Christian refused to accommodate her. He took his heavy dagger from its sheath, pried the hinges from the door, and quietly opened it.
Brianna stared in disbelief at what he had done with so little effort.
His eyes glittered in his dark face. His look was so intense, a finger of fear touched her. In a voice so quiet, it was almost a threat, he said, “Since the baroness has been removed from your home, permanently, I take it you are ready to resume your role as my wife … or do you have more demands, madam?”
He had taken away all her arguments. Her defiance fled. She could find no more words to fling at him.
“Do you, madam?” he repeated.
Brianna shook her head.
“Then come. Now.”
She looked helplessly at her boxes and trunks piled about her and knew she must obey him. He was in no mood to be trifled with.
As they emerged onto the well-lit balcony, she saw that he was covered with blood. “Are you hurt?” she asked with alarm.
“Nay. Don’t touch me. It will all wash off.”
She walked beside him through the house, past the bathing pool and out to the garden. In silence she watched him strip and step into the fountain. He took up a cake of soap and began to scrub himself. Immediately her feelings toward him began to thaw. He was not going to force her to bathe him. Suddenly, that was exactly what she wanted to do. She was the only woman who had the right to bathe him, feed him, and bed him, and it dawned on her that she wanted to guard that right jealously. She removed her outer garment and standing in her filmy underdress, held out her hand. “Give me the soap.”
“I thank you for the wifely gesture, but you were right, I can bathe myself. However, since you are willing to get wet, will you come into the pool with me after I eat?”
Brianna blushed. “I … I cannot swim.”
He smiled at her. “Good, then we won’t swim … we’ll play.”
“I’ll go and see about food,” Brianna said vaguely.
“The kitchens are all the way to the back of the house. We have a superb chef, if I recall from the last time I was here. The beauty of this warm climate is the food tastes better cold than hot.”
When Brianna returned with a servant in tow, Christian had set up a table in the fragrant garden. He was sitting on a double-wide chair called a loveseat, wearing only a towel, which emphasized his swarthy skin. He had lit small candles inside huge white blossoms and set them on the table. The effect was exotically romantic.
The servant emptied his tray, covering the table with platters of cold meat, soft cheese, and crusty bread, along with such a variety of fruit and nuts, Brianna could name only half. He took a stone jug of wine from a cooling pool and deftly removed the cork seal.
Brianna waited until he withdrew before she slipped into the chair beside Hawksblood. To keep her eyes from his iron-hard body, she pretended a great interest in the food. Christian named each one for her. “Figs, dates, tangerines, almonds, filberts.” He dipped a crust into melted Brie and lifted it to her lips. She was pleasantly surprised at its delicious taste and helped herself liberally to the food.
“You are hungry,” he said, wondering why she hadn’t eaten.
She read his thoughts. “I was too angry to eat,” she explained.
He exulted at her words. If she was jealous of him, her emotions ran much deeper than she admitted. He longed to hear her say she loved him, but she was such a stubborn wench, she wasn’t even ready to admit it to herself, let alone to him. He wondered if he would live long enough to hear her say the words.
Christian received deep pleasure from simply looking at her. As she nibbled the fruit and sipped the wine, she seemed unconscious of her beauty. Her hair fell about her in a golden nimbus, the candleglow making it shimmer. He could see the rose tips of her breasts through the fine material of her underdress, and as she ran her tongue over her top lip to taste the sweetness of the wine, his long-simmering desire exploded into molten hot passion. He wanted her in the bed. He saw their bodies entwine, then couple, as he slid deep inside her. His loins were hot and hard and ready.
His hands moved swiftly to remove her underdress, but the moment she was naked she fled to the shadowed end of the bathing pool. He took the exotic flowers from the table with the lighted candles inside their petals, then bent down and floated them on the water. The effect was mesmerizing. As they glided toward her, she suddenly wanted them to reveal her naked beauty to him.
Brianna stepped from the shadows to the pool’s edge, then she arched her body, first thrusting out her breasts, then her pelvis. She raised her arms beneath her long hair and let its golden tendrils cascade about her shoulders and down her back to her feet. Christian slipped into the pool and glided slowly toward her. The light of the floating candles filled her vision, but excitement built inside her because she knew he was coming for her, knew he was somewhere in the shadowed water.
When she looked down, Brianna realized there were steps leading into the water. Hesitantly, she took the first step down toward him. She could not see him, could not even hear him make the smallest splash. Boldly, she took the next step and felt the warm scented water swirl about her knees. Then his hands were on her ankles, slipping up her legs, his hot mouth trailing up the insides of her thighs, finally showering her pretty mons with teasing kisses.
It held him enthralled for long minutes, and Brianna, unable to resist his insistent mouth, again arched her pelvis. His tongue licked her with long strokes until she was hot and wet. When she moaned her need and moved down toward him, he stayed her and came up out of the pool. With his lips against her ear he whispered, “I don’t want your hair wet. I want to play with it. I want to take you up to bed.”
She expected him to pick her up and carry her, but she did not anticipate the way he did it! He lifted her high and let her slide down his wet, sleek body. He slipped his hand between them to open the petals of her woman’s center, then guided the throbbing head of his rigid shaft up inside her. Brianna wrapped her arms about his neck, and he murmured hoarsely, “Wrap your legs about me too.”
As she raised her legs to wrap them about his waist, he slid deeper than he had ever been before. With his hands supporting her bottom cheeks, he walked slowly toward the stairs that led up to their bedchamber. Dear God, this man could arouse her against her will. The feel of him inside her was so potent, she could think of nothing but the pleasurable sensations like waves that built and receded, built and receded; ever higher, ever stronger. As he began to climb the stairs the sleek friction of engorged male muscle inside love-swollen female flesh became so exquisite that by the time he reached the top step she experienced a powerful orgasm that made her arch backward as she cried out her pleasure.
Her new position intensified the pure sensuality of their coupling and Christian felt the entire length of his shaft being squeezed by the pulsations of her tight, hot sheath. He stood absolutely still so they could both enjoy her climax, then when the last tremor and flicker of her swollen bud stilled, he carried her to the bed and set about arousing her all over again. Slowly, beautifully, as if they had forever.
Indeed, it seemed as if an eternity passed while she writhed and arched and gasped, then finally erupted with him. It was like a volcanic explosion, bathing each other in molten lava. His possessive arms enfolded her like bands of iron, and deep down, Brianna knew that such intensity was rare. Few lovers could possibly experience coitus as they did.
Moonlight spilled across the bed. “Christian, I was so jealous, I wanted to kill her,” Brianna whispered. “I … I’m beginning to understand the dark evil that drove you to kill Robert.”
He withdrew his arms from her, then swung his legs over the edge of the bed to sit up. She caught a glimpse of blazing eyes in a face turned to stone. He turned away from her. She saw his hard profile in the moonligh
t, then he was gone, swallowed by the shadows.
Brianna lay staring up at the silk canopy that enveloped the bed. She knew she must learn to control her tongue. She must not utter Robert’s name again. And yet she knew they would never banish the dark shadow of his ghost that stood between them unless they talked it all out. She was covered with guilt and knew that Christian must be also. If he would confide in her, admit what he had done, even if he told her it was for love of her, Brianna felt she might be able to forgive him. At least she would be understanding and compassionate.
If they could talk it out so that nothing ugly and evil was hidden between them, they could make a new beginning. She heard a nightingale and its song was so poignantly beautiful, a heavy lump formed in her throat and the tears slipped down her cheeks.
The next morning Brianna was surprised by a visit from Prince Edward. “I’m sorry, Your Highness, Hawksblood isn’t here.”
Edward was amused. “Is that what you call him? Poor devil! He’s been drilling men-at-arms since dawn. I came to tell you that Joan’s ship is about to dock. Would you go down to meet her and bring her here so our reunion can be private?”
Brianna’s heart lifted with joy. “Oh, I have missed her so much! Adele, Joan’s ship has arrived,” she called gaily.
“We’ll go immediately. The servants will look after you, Sire. Please make yourself at home.”
“It will be my pleasure to do so. This is a beautiful house, like a palace from a fairy tale!” he said, bemused.
The moment the vessel was secured at dockside, Brianna rushed aboard. When she saw Joan, she gasped, “Oh, my dear, you shouldn’t be traveling. Your baby must be ready to be born!”
“Brianna, all I could think of was getting to Bordeaux. I wouldn’t let her be born until I got here.”
Brianna lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s at my house, awaiting you.”
A look of alarm crossed Joan’s pretty face. “I can’t let him see me like this, he will fall out of love with me! I have heard Bordeaux overflows with beautiful, cultured ladies.”
“We’ve only been here a few days. The Court hasn’t held any receptions yet. Besides, Glynis and Adele here will back me up. You are absolutely blooming with loveliness.”
Adele looked concerned. “I don’t think she should walk.”
Brianna said, “I’ll get a carriage. They are pulled by donkeys, Joan. You’ll just love a donkey ride.”
As Brianna climbed to the deck, Sir John Holland excused himself from the ship’s captain to hail her. It galled him that this beautiful, haughty bitch was privy to Joan and Edward’s relationship. Whenever he saw her, he always had the urge to strike her. She made him feel less than a man. Someday he would like to have her at his mercy, then he would show her that he was far more man than she could ever handle.
“You are now Lady de Beauchamp, I assume?”
Brianna paled. “Welcome to Bordeaux, my lord. I am taking Joan to my house until her … I mean, until your apartments are ready.”
“I shall come myself for her when all is in readiness. I have business with your husband, Robert.”
Color rushed back into her cheeks. “Sir John, I am sorry to inform you that Robert de Beauchamp was killed at the tournament.”
Holland looked stunned. “Prince Edward slew Robert?”
“Nay … he was killed by his brother, Christian Hawksblood.” She lowered her lashes, too ashamed to admit that she was married to Robert’s brother. Brianna did not see the look of pure hatred in Holland’s eyes. It took every ounce of his control to keep from knocking her to the ground.
Brianna and Glynis helped Joan up the white marble steps. “I’ve never seen anything like this … the flowers … the sunshine. This isn’t a house, it’s a palace,” Joan declared breathlessly. “Is it yours?”
Brianna blushed. “It’s my husband’s.”
“Darling, you are wed?” Joan exclaimed.
“It’s a complicated story. Robert de Beauchamp was fatally wounded in the tournament, and the king decided to honor my betrothal contract with the House of Warrick.”
“Then you are married to Christian? Oh, Brianna, you got your heart’s desire! I am so very happy for you.”
Brianna wanted to protest. Couldn’t Joan see the cruel trick Fate had played upon her? Getting one’s heart’s desire was supposed to be a reward. Brianna had been rewarded when she should have been punished. But Joan was too uncomplicated for such ironic subtleties, so she simply murmured, “Thank you.”
The servants brought refreshments of fruit and cool drinks and Brianna lifted Joan’s feet onto the chaise longue and put cushions to her back. In spite of the heat and her advanced stage of pregnancy, Joan managed to look exquisitely cool in a pale blue gown of finespun cotton caught beneath her luscious breasts with forget-me-nots.
“You’ll see that the royal palace is an enormous place. It used to be an abbey and must have over five hundred rooms. We’ll go and see that your bed is set up and all your things unpacked.” Brianna hurried off to find Edward. She found him pacing along an open balcony overlooking the gardens. “She’s waiting for you, Your Highness, but I must seek out the queen’s midwives immediately.”
“My God, has her labor begun?”
“No, but it cannot be far off.”
“Go then, hurry. I’ll stay with her.”
The moment he saw her, Edward was overcome with tenderness. He sank down on his knees before her and took her dainty hands to his lips. “My heart, it’s been a lifetime. Forgive me for all the separations we must endure.”
Joan’s lips trembled. “Do you still love me?”
“My little Jeanette, I adore you. You have all of my heart. You should have waited to travel, sweeting.”
“I couldn’t wait. I wanted to be here in time for your birthday.”
He bit his lip. Tomorrow a birthday celebration was to be held in his honor and naturally he would have to attend, but his heart would be with Joan. His hands gently stole to the precious mound she carried so sweetly. “You are going to have to be very brave, my love.”
She smoothed the worry lines from his brow. “You mustn’t be upset. Your mother has had ten children,” Joan said with a little yawn.
“You’re overtired. Close your eyes and try to rest.”
“The heat is making me drowsy,” she said, yawning again.
Edward scooped her up in his arms, then stretched out on the lounge. “I’ll hold you. Try to sleep.”
Safe in his arms, Joan soon drifted into slumber. Edward’s lips feathered kisses across her fair brow, savoring these private moments that were few and far between, and silently praying that his beloved would be safely delivered of their child.
The Steward of the Royal Household chose an entire wing of the palace set apart from the king and queen’s overflowing household by an orchard. Their ménage à trois required both space and complete privacy.
Holland was incensed at the trick Fate had played on him. The servants were quick to fill him in on all the gory details of the hastilude that had claimed the lives of Robert de Beauchamp and the king’s best friend, William de Montecute. There were whispers of a conspiracy to assassinate the Black Prince, which Christian Hawksblood had thwarted by killing his own brother.
Holland cursed foully, his temper erupting at the clumsy fools who were carrying in crates and trunks. So, he had the Arabian pig to thank for his misfortune. If it hadn’t been for that whoreson Hawksblood, Prince Edward would be in his grave and he’d have Joan all to himself. He swore a vow to get even. With difficulty he submerged his anger, banking his fiery temper below the surface where it could still be felt, but not seen. He knew he must report to the king and pay his respects to Queen Philippa. As Royal Steward he must make himself invaluable to them.
When Holland entered the queen’s reception room, Philippa offered him congratulations on the imminent birth of his child. He accepted the gracious offer of the royal mid-wives, but could not keep from
flushing darkly as he felt Brianna of Bedford’s eyes upon him. The queen would never know Joan’s baby would be her first grandchild, but that bitch Brianna knew the scandalous secret.
One by one the ladies gathered about the Steward to ask him to change their accommodation, to complain about either the size or location of their chambers, or to grumble about the high-handed servants. Finally, Queen Philippa rescued him. “Sir John, I didn’t want to pounce upon you the moment you arrived, but the royal household has never needed your services as we do at this moment. We have been here at least three days, but we are in a bigger mess than the hour we arrived. Half of our baggage is missing, beds and furnishings have gone to the wrong rooms, there are over five hundred chambers in this building alone. And as if that were not enough, the food we are being served is not what we are used to. Oh, I know there are fruits and spices here from all over the world, but some of the good old English food we are used to wouldn’t go amiss. Sir John, I’m afraid we already have guests arriving for the celebration tomorrow and we are in chaos. Do you suppose you can sort any of it out?”
“I shall attend to everything, Your Majesty. I should have been informed of your plans so that I could have arrived before you and had all in readiness. I shall organize the staff immediately. Leave everything in my capable hands, Your Majesty.”
When Brianna returned to her house, Prince Edward told her Joan’s pains had started. “I must go and order a litter to carry Joan up to the abbey. How am I to leave her?” he asked with anguish.
Brianna tried to reassure him. “I’ll stay with her, I promise, and Glynis and Adele are still up there, making her chambers comfortable. Men are usually in the way at a time like this.”
“Brianna, send me word how she fares. Jesu, I’d rather face the tortures of hell,” he said, running distracted fingers through his golden locks.
“The litter, Sire, please!”
Joan’s labor stretched through the afternoon and the long evening. Her chambers were filled with women, some offering encouragement, others predicting dire consequences because of her small size, still others ignoring her plight completely and using this opportunity to visit and gossip.
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